


underneath the stars

by EnderFlash



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Canon Compliant, Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:53:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29903457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnderFlash/pseuds/EnderFlash
Summary: On their first campaign as Marley's esteemed Warriors, in the bloody aftermath of a mission, a young Bertholdt and Reiner find themselves lost and desperate. As night falls, the two boys are forced to settle down in the middle of enemy territory, with nothing familiar to cling onto except for each other and the stars.
Relationships: Reiner Braun & Bertolt Hoover, Reiner Braun/Bertolt Hoover
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	underneath the stars

**Author's Note:**

> For Reibert week day 5: stargazing: soft babies Reiner and Bertholdt.

When Bertholdt floated into awareness, he was being carried. He sluggishly lifted his head from someone’s warm neck, and then the dull, throbbing pain in his right leg set in, making him inhale sharply and bury his face into the person’s neck again, willing the suffering away. His face felt sticky. A lot of him felt sticky, like he’d rolled in the dirt. It was dark and chilly, so he couldn’t immediately tell who was carrying him, but he knew that his uniform was torn and exposing his skin to the night air. He shivered, and the one of the hands hitched underneath his legs gave a gentle squeeze. Those hands felt oddly warm, more so than the neck.

“It’s okay, Bertholdt,” a familiar voice whispered, panting. “We’re almost there. Just a little more.”

 _Reiner?_ Bertholdt thought, too tired to speak. He didn’t understand why he was so tired. What had happened? They were on a mission, he dully recalled. Their first official mission as Warriors. They had been dispatched on a year-long campaign to subjugate the neighboring state of Breimen; though tiny, it was a key step for Marley’s eastern ambitions, and Commander Magath had told them it would be a crucial first evaluation of the Warrior program’s field effectiveness. The five of them had embarked with their duty heavy on their shoulders. 

Bertholdt’s first task had been to take out a fortress near the border with his transformation. Then, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, he began to remember what had happened. He had successfully destroyed the base, but in his fear and panic, he had jumped out of his titan a little too hastily. His memory after that was fragmented and hazy, and an attempt to make them clearer made his heart thud quicker and breathing raggeder. His senses were returning to him, and he could hear the hiss of steam and feel a billowing warmth rising around them. Tentatively, he tried to wiggle his toes, and with a jolt realized that he couldn’t feel his right foot at all.

He let out a wail and began to cry. Reiner’s hushes and whispered assurances rushed out, but he barely heard them. Everything hurt; his arms felt raw and heavy, even though the scratches from dragging himself through the rubble had healed, his head pounded, his chest was tight, and his leg burned with a pain he hadn’t known he could ever feel. Even that time he broke his arm in training felt nothing like this. “Reiner,” he gasped, gripping onto the other boy so tightly he might’ve split skin, “it hurts.”

“I know, Bertholdt, I’m sorry, I know.” Reiner’s voice was thin and panicked, and Bertholdt felt him walk faster. “It’s my fault, I’m sorry. I thought I’d detonated everything on the field, but I missed, and you… and I took so long to find you....” His voice cracked. “We’re almost there, I’m sorry, please…”

Blearily, Bertholdt tried to look around. He was too tired to lift his head, so he just shifted and leaned into Reiner’s neck to prop his head up. Between waves of agony and hackneyed sobs, he forced himself to take in his surroundings. It looked like Reiner had brought them a decent way from the battlefield, though he could still make out the outline of the rubble that had been the base in the distance. He’d wondered, briefly, why Reiner hadn’t transformed, but they were still too deep into enemy territory to risk detection. These grass hills, however, looked nothing like the wooded rendezvous area Zeke had pointed out to them. He tried to spot trees, but it was too dark. Then, he peered at the sky. The stars were just beginning to come out, and after a few moments he found the north star among them. The rendezvous had been to the north, he remembered, and they weren’t quite walking in that direction. 

He twisted his head back to see where Reiner was heading. They were climbing up a slight incline, and there was a lone, twisted tree at the zenith of the mound. It was a pathetic thing. For a morbid second, he thought that Reiner had seriously misconstrued Zeke’s instructions, but then dismissed that thought immediately. Reiner was smarter than everyone gave him credit for. He’d taken them here for a reason. Bertholdt sank against Reiner again, exhaling through gritted teeth. He wished that he was still unconscious.

After several more staggered steps, he felt himself being lowered to the grass. The movement jolted an involuntary whine from his mouth. Immediately, he bit down on his tongue, but Reiner was already apologizing. Breathlessly, he managed, “It’s alright. I’m okay.”

“No! You’re not!” Reiner cried, and Bertholdt flinched at the noise. “I messed up, _again_ , just like he said I would!” He rubbed at his face and Bertholdt blearily looked up at him and realized that Reiner was crying, too. He had probably been crying for a while, from the looks of it, and Bertholdt instinctively tried to reach for him. But his arm wouldn’t obey his habit, falling to the side instead, and all he managed was to tiredly pat the grass next to him. His head was a foot away from the roots of the tree, and the dirt felt hard. 

“Reiner,” he said, and Reiner stared at him, eyes round with terror and guilt. “Let’s rest… a bit.”

Hesitantly, Reiner got onto his knees, but he didn’t lie down. Instead, he fussed over Bertholdt, visibly stricken by his injuries yet unable to keep his eyes away from them. “How bad is it?” He whispered, and then shook his head furiously. “No, of course it’s bad! I mean, ah, can you make it? Can you stay awake?”

Bertholdt blinked through the tears. It was still difficult to think outside of the pain, but it was starting to settle into a dull, constant corner in his mind. If he didn’t move, he could almost string a few thoughts together. “I’m fine,” he repeated, even though he wasn’t. He patted next to him again. “Please?” It was a plea for him to rest and to stop pushing. The sight of Reiner so distraught made him uncomfortable and overwhelmed on top of the physical agony and he closed his eyes. It wasn’t like he could look at much, anyway, surrounded by the dark, barren hills of enemy territory. He wanted to pretend he wasn’t here. But it was difficult to believe that when he could feel the moment so viscerally. 

He heard Reiner settle on the ground besides him. The other boy’s hand brushed against his, before being jerked away, and Bertholdt felt a pang of disappointment. Instead of dwelling on it, he took in a deep breath and let out a shaky exhale. The tears wouldn’t stop rolling, but he could feel his newly acquired titan powers mending his body and lessening the pain by the moment. It made him feel better, but also somehow worse. He didn’t feel quite human anymore. 

“Wow…” Reiner stuttered, and Bertholdt cracked open an eye to see him staring at Bertholdt’s leg. It felt warm, and he could hear the gnarly crackles of bone and flesh reknitting itself. 

He didn’t want to look, so he mustered a question instead. “Where is this?”

“I… I don’t know.” Reiner couldn’t meet his eyes. “I just tried to get away from the active combat zones. At least, I think I did. It’s night and it’s hard to see what might be happening in the trenches.”

“And the rendezvous point?”

“I couldn’t… I… It was too far!” Reiner cried, bringing up his hands to rub at a fresh wave of tears. He rolled onto his side, so that Bertholdt couldn’t see his face anymore. “You were bleeding so much, Bertholdt! Half your leg was gone! And I was too weak and I just couldn’t carry you any further and I thought… I don’t know what I thought. I’ve messed everything up…” 

He couldn’t bear to see this. “Reiner,” he said, gently resting his hand against Reiner’s back. He could feel trembles. “Thank you.”

For a few beats, the hissing of steam and the eery chirps of crickets reigned. Reiner was clearly trying his best to suppress his sobs and Bertholdt felt horrible for being relieved. He thought that, maybe, he should be more terrified. In his state he wouldn’t be able to run if an enemy found them, and Reiner couldn’t carry him any further. And even though they were children, they were also Marley’s most potent weapons, one of whom had just wiped out hundreds of Breimian soldiers. Living, breathing men. But Bertholdt just felt numb and hollow and awful, and he was already crying so much from the pain that he didn’t think he could cry any harder. He wanted his dad.

“I want my mom, too,” Reiner admitted. Bertholdt hadn’t realized that he’d spoken out loud, and flushed a little. “It’s cold. Usually… she makes lentil soup, on cold nights.”

Bertholdt knew that. He and his dad had been to their house a few times, before his dad had been admitted into the hospital. “It… tastes really good. My dad asked for her recipe.”

“Yeah.”

“He tried really hard, but it didn’t taste the same.”

“Yeah,” Reiner repeated, and coughed out a chuckle. “My mom… always said that dad had liked her soup. So she made it really often.”

“Reiner?”

“Yeah, Bertholdt?”

“I think I’m hungry now,” he said, not quite whining. His nose was runny and he harshly inhaled. It was a pathetic sound, but he felt very pathetic, in addition to being homesick now, and insisting that he was fine was getting tiring. 

“... Pieck has the rations.” 

Bertholdt had known that already. They lapsed into silence. His gaze wandered over the stars again and fixed onto the north star, their beacon and hope. As soon as he had completely recovered, the two of them would have to move. But the star looked so far away and small, and Bertholdt’s body felt so heavy against the cold, hard dirt. He couldn’t stop himself from shivering. The military had provided them with heavy-duty uniforms, since it was fall, but the plan hadn’t been to be out here during the night, and most of his pants and some of his shirt fabric was gone. The parts of his legs that weren’t in excruciating pain were going ice numb. 

Then, he felt a jacket being laid over him, and he turned to see that Reiner had sat up and wriggled out of his at some point. The cloth was coarse but quelled the immediate bite of the night chill, and instinctively he gripped the lapels in his hand and pulled it, tighter, against him. Even as he did, he was mumbling, “Huh? What are you…”

“It’s fine,” Reiner said, echoing Bertholdt’s earlier tone. “You need this more,” he said, even as his bare arms trembled. He began to pull away, and then, without thinking, Bertholdt’s hand snapped around his wrist. 

“Wait,” Bertholdt said. Reiner’s wrist felt rough and with a jolt he realized that there were wisps of steam coming from Reiner’s hands, tickling Bertholdt’s hand. He paused for a moment, but he could feel the bravery leaving him by the second and made himself stumble on. “Don’t go. Uh, it’s cold. And, um, I don’t mind, and....” He felt a blush coming on and regretted saying anything at all. “I mean, we could…”

Reiner’s face might’ve been reddening. It was hard to tell in the dark. Why were they blushing? “R-right! In class, Commander Magath was saying… you know, something about body heat, and…”

Bertholdt tugged again to cut him off. Somehow, vocalizing the rationale made it more awkward. “You don’t need to say it, just…” He tugged again, getting a little frustrated, and Reiner hurried to settle down against him.

It was a bit awkward at first; Reiner was carefully keeping his lower body away from Bertholdt, as to not jostle his leg wounds, and he tucked his head against Bertholdt’s neck, in the crook under his jaw. At first, they were lying next to each other, more than anything. Then, the warmth became too tempting, and they began to shift incrementally to accommodate each other better, Reiner more than Bertholdt. Reiner ducked his head more, and Bertholdt shifted his jaw to rest against it. Their shoulders bumped. Their arms shuffled around each other; first Reiner’s was on top, then Bertholdt’s. Throughout the process, Reiner was slow, almost irritatingly so, but they managed to settle into something comfortable. Reiner’s hair tickled his chin a bit, but the heavy, soft feeling of Reiner curled up into him was inexplicably calming. A warmth spread within Bertholdt, more than he’d thought body heat would get him, and for a few moments his leg was almost bearable. 

After a minute, Bertholdt became a little too aware of how uncomfortably his arm was positioned between their bodies, and he realized that he was still grasping Reiner’s wrist. Slowly, unsurely, he moved his hand downward. There was a beat, and then Reiner moved in reciprocation, too. It wasn’t clear which of them clasped their hand around the other’s first. Bertholdt could feel the heat of the steam, emanating from vanishing scratches and grazes. Through that, Reiner’s hand was dry and calloused, caked in a thin, crumbly layer of dirt. Hesitant and tired, Bertholdt gently brought his thumb over the other boy’s palm, and shifted minutely to peer down at the top of Reiner’s head.

Reiner’s breathing was starting to slow again. He could tell, from the way his chest pressed against Bertholdt’s side. A part of Bertholdt wanted to ask him about his hands, but the quiet peace they were settling into felt too precious to shatter. 

Then, he remembered something that Reiner had said earlier. _I took so long to find you_. Bertholdt had been dropped into the enemy base at midday. Now, the stars were twinkling above them, the chirping of crickets a muted, enveloping cacophony. How long had he been out? How long had Reiner looked for him? He imagined Reiner, titan marks still steaming on his face, desperately searching through the rubble and dust and bodies, swallowing panicked cries, scared that Bertholdt might be dead and scared of being discovered. He imagined these tiny hands crawling through the dirt and turning over rough-edged concrete and pulling aside sharp twisted wires.

Reiner exhaled softly, and Bertholdt didn’t want to imagine it anymore. He wanted to be here, instead. Without realizing it, his hand had tightened around Reiner’s. He let go quickly, but Reiner had noticed.

“Did you pay attention during those astronomy classes?” Reiner whispered, catching Bertholdt’s fading attention.

“... A bit,” he replied, also whispering. He had paid attention during all classes.

“Do you recognize the one up there? Right above us, the five that curve up like that?”

“Yeah. It’s Ymir’s urn.”

“Huh. It looks more like a bowl than an urn to me.”

“Constellations don’t make sense. That, um… that there, with the three stars in a triangle and one sticking out… That’s Helos’s spear, stuck onto the devil’s head.”

“And that looks more like a kite.” Reiner giggled.

Bertholdt felt his lips tugging up into a smile. “That’s what I thought, too.”

"I bet our parents are looking at these stars, too," Reiner said.

"... I think so, too." The tension was draining out of Bertholdt. Above him, the stars stretched out endlessly. It was if he could look at them forever and they would be there forever, unmoving and twinkling. The only impediment to his vision was a dark branch from the tree next to their heads hovering several feet above them, its leaves trembling from the night chills. A pulsating cluster of stars framed one of those leaves, and he stared at it, entranced by how it glowed around the edges of that fragile dark silhouette. His eyes felt heavy. They fluttered closed. He spent a moment like that, and then lazily opened them again. The leaf was gone. Or maybe the branch had moved. Or had the stars moved? A chuckle bubbled up in his chest, and he didn’t know why. 

The glow of the stars and the warmth of Reiner against him seemed to leech the pain from his mind and body. They should take shifts through the night, to be safe. But his tongue lolled in his mouth.

“Go to sleep, Bertholdt,” Reiner said, reading his mind. “Tomorrow, we’ll follow the north star and find the others.”

Sleep. He’d like that. It might’ve sky, or Reiner, or his tiredness, but he could feel safe like this. Somehow, this hill was an island of safety, floating apart from the dangers of the battlefields around them, and Bertholdt started to let himself drift. “Wake me… later… for shift…” He murmured, eyes closed.

“I will,” Reiner promised. 

The hiss of steam faded into the background. The two of them were breathing, softly and steadily, and that was enough. Stupid of him, a small part of him protested, trying to get him to move. But that was okay. He was okay with being a little stupid. His grip around Reiner’s hand grew lax, and his hand rolled part way onto the dirt. With his dimming awareness, he could feel Reiner rest his hand next to his. He felt Reiner press his face into his shoulder, his lips against the stiff cloth of Bertholdt's uniform in an imitation of a kiss. Like that, half-dreaming, Bertholdt drifted off.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell with me at @cottongecko!


End file.
